


Beneath The Goddess Tower - Three Idiots Edition

by Asaaranda



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Multi, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 10:49:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20740991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asaaranda/pseuds/Asaaranda
Summary: Felix Hugo Fraldarius hates it when people waste his time. Sylvain Jose Gautier has more or less made it his life's ambition to do just that. Ingrid Brandl Galataea is in the unenviable position of being in love with both of these idiots and she knows it. But with the ghost of her fiance haunting them all, could either of them love her?She doesn't know, and finding the answer to that largely depends on whether or not Sylvain can stop screwing up for more than three minutes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Felix**

The cycle of the Ethereal Moon was reaching its end, and the monastery was filled with twittering idiots overexcited for a chance to play prince (or princess) at the annual ball to be held in honor of its founding. Classes and training had nearly ground to a halt, and even the knights who had relentlessly trained with him before were now too busy queueing up to ask the women to accompany them on what was promised to be the most romantic night of the year. This frivolous affair frustrated Felix not only because it was wasting everyone else’s time - but the lack of training partners wasted _ his _ time as well.

Worse, instructors Manuela and Hanneman had informed their classes that all students were expected to attend. Although, he imagined it was mandatory in the same way that lectures were ‘mandatory’, so the odds of anyone catching him spinning about with some vapid airhead on his arm was incredibly close to zero.

And then, he heard Sylvain. 

“Oh Felix, great! Good. I was just looking for you. D’you think you could do a favor?” 

The tall and, unfortunately, handsome red-headed idiot that he’d known since childhood flashed him a grin that he assumed ought to have been called charming. Felix sighed, wiped sweat from his face, and crossed the room to hang his training sword back up on the peg. 

“No.” 

“C’mon Felix. I’m literally dying here, man.”

“Do it faster then.” 

He turned to leave and felt a hand - stronger than he remembered - latch onto his bicep and hold him steady. A low growl formed in the back of his throat as his irritation began to truly mount.

Any time Sylvain needed anything, it promised to be a gigantic headache for everyone else involved - and since “everyone else” often included him, Felix wanted little more out of life than to escape this situation immediately. Even if he knew it meant Sylvain was just going to flash big, sad puppy dog eyes and hound him about it until either he caved, or whatever Sylvain needed help with blew over. He sighed and stopped. Maybe listening to him _ before _ turning him down would work better. 

“Look. You know how there’s the big end of the year celebration going on, right?”

“It’s virtually impossible to miss,” Felix allowed.

“So look. I… may have gotten a little carried away with asking a couple girls if they would be interested in going. I mean, I had no idea that they’d al-b-both accept! But now it’s getting too close to the deadline to turn one of them down and expect her to find a date. So… I was hoping you’d meet up with me and turn it into a kind of impromptu double-date, right?”

“You want me to run interference so you can chase several skirts at once.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, no, no. I’m just not so cruel and heartless as to ruin this romantic night for a girl if I can help it.”

“I’m not going to help you.” Felix said, and pulled his arm away, only to have both hands clasp his shoulders as Sylvain pivoted around to stand in front of him, his sweet, dumb brown eyes wet with tears of false sincerity.

“Don’t do it for me, man. Do it for her. Most students only ever get one shot at this ball, it’s a really important night, especially for the ladies. Even if it’s just a meaningless dance for you, most women who graduate from this academy remember this ball for the rest of their lives. If you don’t come, her night’s going to be completely ruined, and she has to live with that forever. Do you really hate me so much that you’d let one girl’s entire year, maybe entire life, be ruined because you couldn’t just come and dance with her a little?” Sylvain asked, his voice straining with an earnestness that Felix really hated. _ Damn it. _

“...Who’s the girl?”

“Whew, thanks man. We’re going to be meeting Isabel and Bethany. Long blonde hair, deep brown eyes, new to the academy.”

“Which one, Isabel or Bethany?” 

“Both! Twins.” Sylvain grinned.

“I hate you so much…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ingrid, Mercie, Annie, and Dorothea talk boys.

**Ingrid**

Ingrid… was flustered. Her entire life had centered around the necessity of her attending events like this end-of-year ball battling against her complete aversion to everything ladylike. She didn’t fuss with her clothes. She had never liked makeup. As a child she’d rolled in the mud with her friends and scampered home covered in dirt and bugs, and was utterly happy about it. If she could, she would have gladly gone her entire life without looking at another frilly dress or being expected to hang on the arm of some noble and pretend to laugh at his jokes. She also knew that once her stint at the academy was over, that _ would _ be her life - her father had made it clear that her fate was to be wed to help her family’s dismal status, and she had long ago resigned herself to that fact.  
  
So school, in a sense, was her last escape, a kind of final vacation from her duty as the only child - and daughter - of a failing noble house. It was with bitter irony that she realized she’d still have to deal with those kinds of situations here. It was perhaps even more ironic that now, so much of the so-called tomboy was beginning to _ slowly _ give way to the noblewoman she always dreaded becoming.  
  
For instance, she had put on makeup this morning. Very light - just a little powder and blush to help feminize her complexion. She’d been doing it for months now, ever since a close classmate, Annette, had managed to talk her into at least trying to dabble in the more ‘ _ feminine’ _ arts. She had to admit, begrudgingly, that she didn’t hate the effect it had on her. Makeup wasn’t supposed to be important for knights, and so she had completely ignored it… until the day Annette had guilt-tripped her into sitting still in her room long enough for a full “makeover”. The person who had stared back at her then was hardly recognizable: beautiful and charming and seductive, the “fabulous lady knight” that Annette often fantasized about. And Ingrid had to admit there was something… appealing... about the idea. So she decided that she’d try to at least keep up with basic makeup routines.  
  
But dresses were something else - and the current source of her exasperation and embarrassment. She stood, awkwardly, in the middle of three other girls, feeling smothered and naked all at once. They were in Dorothea’s room - the songstress of the Black Eagle house whose voluptuous figure, chestnut hair, and emerald eyes had made her the envy of all the men at the monastery, from lowly student to distinguished knight. She was, unfortunately, determined to make Ingrid “as sexy as possible”, in her own words. Annette and Mercedes from Ingrid’s own class were here too, largely as emotional support. 

She tried to turn around in the thigh-hugging dress and mostly felt like her knees would rip straight through the fabric if she tried to do any more than shuffle forward. It was a long, slender dress that exposed _ far _more of her chest than was decent, while wrapping her legs and arms up tighter than sausages in their casings. Her hair was tied back and done up, and a glimmering silver choker that matched the dress adorned her neck. There was no question that she was beautiful. But the illusion would shatter when she fell flat on her face. Also, her back was cold. Backs shouldn’t be cold. 

“Dorothea… I appreciate the effort and patience but this is… this is way way waaaay too much for me.” Dorothea moved to stand in front of her and bent down to squint at the plunging neckline before reaching up and tugging at the fabric around her breasts. Ingrid let out a surprised yelp that Dorothea ignored. 

“I think it looks fetching on you, even if it isn’t exactly your size. Not to worry! We have several other outfits for you to choose from.”

“You have more?!” 

“Oh Ingrid,” Mercedes called cheerfully from her seat on the bed, “Dorothea runs the stage productions this year, she surely has dozens or even hundreds of dresses to choose from.” 

Mercedes was older, 22 years of age, with light-brown hair and pale blue eyes. She radiated a gentle, sweet softness that made her incredibly approachable and warm. But even her soothing, light voice didn’t make Ingrid feel any better right now 

The idea of putting on even a half dozen more dresses sent a fluttering through Ingrid’s stomach that she did not think she could live through.

“Can’t I just wear my uniform anyway? Why are we going through all this effort?”

“It’s fun… isn’t it?” Annette asked from her spot at the bed. 

The cheery redhead had an infectious energy that was difficult to shrug aside, and the honest, good-naturedness of her requests made her impossible to resist… which is why Ingrid found herself in this situation in the first place. Ingrid sighed. She didn’t want her friends to think she didn’t appreciate their efforts. And it wasn’t like she _ disliked _ this. It was just strange and new. Too many things were, lately.

“I suppose…” she admitted.

“Well, I wouldn’t say you shouldn’t wear your uniform…” Dorothea said as she pulled her arms away and folded them beneath her chest. “It’s often a good idea to wear something that will appeal to the person you’re attending with, or will compliment their attire. Which reminds me… I never asked who any of you were going with. Annette?”

Annette’s cheeks turned pink as she stared down at the floor and kicked her legs absently over the side of the bed. “Well… I actually had to turn someone down yesterday.” There was a gasp from Mercedes and a sly smirk from Dorothea.

“Our dear sweet Annie is already a little heartbreaker... Who was it?” 

“...Caspar…” 

“Oh my, but I thought you two get along pretty well?” Mercedes asked as she covered her mouth in mild surprise.

“Yes well… he asked me after I promised to go with you, Mercie.” Annette blushed a deeper shade of red.

“You turned down a perfectly handsome boy for a friend date? Annie… Mercie could have still gone with me…” Dorothea sighed, “You ought to march right back up to that dumb precious boy and tell him you’ll go with him afterall. Mercie, what about you?”

Mercedes smiled gently, “Oh, I’ve been telling all of the men who have asked me that I’m already going with someone special.” 

“So who’s the lucky date?” Dorothea asked.

“Annie!” Mercedes beamed. 

Dorothea put her palm to her forehead and let out a good natured, if exasperated, chuckle.

“You two were made for each other,” she smiled.

“Well, what about you, Dorothea?” Mercedes asked.

“Several knights have asked me to spend the evening with them - although it’s not expressly allowed. And several male students have asked me, but… the person I was hoping to ask me still hasn’t yet.” She answered… vaguely. 

Ingrid sighed. Dorothea was extremely popular and everyone knew it. She could have any pick of students to go with her if she wanted. If Ingrid were more interested in courtship, she might have wanted to know who this mystery person was. It was hard to imagine anyone Dorothea was interested in who wouldn’t have asked her to go yet.  
  
Certainly only a handful of boys would count. Hubert was permanently attached to Edelgard like some sort of evil, ominous shadow. She couldn’t imagine Dedue would go with anyone - he was still convinced that everyone in Fodlan hated him. Even though she had finally gotten over her own hang-ups about the people of Duscur, she had to concur that his prospects at dating within the Academy didn’t look good. _ If _ he even wanted to. She was thoroughly convinced he did not. Ignatz from Claude’s house might have been the only person too shy to ask her. Everyone else… had likely asked Dorothea the moment the month began. That much attention sounded patently exhausting. She was glad she didn’t have to choose from so many suitors.

“Ingrid…?” Dorothea asked. Ingrid felt her cheeks warm - she must have missed something while she was lost in thought.

“I’m sorry… I’m a little distracted. What was it?”

“Take that off and tell us who you’re planning to go with.” Dorothea instructed. Ingrid was so glad to be told to get out of the dress that she turned and let Dorothea drag down the zipper before the rest of the question caught up to her brain. She sputtered for a reply.

“I… umm. I can’t decide who to go with.”

This elicited gasps from everyone in the room. 

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that… so who are the lucky suitors we have to choose from?” 

Ingrid felt her cheeks burning now. This was not a conversation she wanted to have. But trapped in Dorothea’s room half naked surrounded by her friends, immediate retreat was impossible. And besides… she did… kind of need their help in figuring this out, right? The past several months had been confusing and chaotic, and any time she began to sit down to really think about her situation, someone ended up kidnapped or attacked or goddess knew what else. She had never properly had time to _ think _ about her romantic situation in full. Only in short snippets, in private. Where it still hurt.

“Honestly…? Please don’t tease me about this,” she groaned. She knew she would never live this down. 

“I promise, upon pain of death, not to laugh at your choices.” Dorothea said with full-blown mock-seriousness.

“I’m really serious, Dorothea. This is embarrassing, and this really cannot leave this room, okay? Promise me.”

Dorothea frowned slightly, all traces of mockery gone from her face. “This is really serious, huh? Okay, Ingrid, I’m sorry. I promise not to tell a soul, and I won’t tease you about it.”

“Mercedes? Annette?” Ingrid asked.

“Our lips are sealed!” Annette announced cheerfully. Mercedes simply nodded.

“So the first one… is Sylvain.”

“What, really?!” Annette.

“Wow… okay. Sylvain, huh…” Dorothea mused aloud. 

“Don’t be like that,” Mercedes said rather forcefully… for Mercedes anyway. It was enough to get Annette and Dorothea both to quiet down and turn to her. 

Ingrid’s face was burning and her chest was throbbing with anxiety over having admitted it out loud. So, okay. On paper, it was insane. Sylvain was… Sylvain! He was a thoughtless womanizing lecher who coasted by on natural talent and had barely worked hard a single day in his life. She’d known him for as long as she could remember. And even though she was _ constantly _ angry with him about the way he treated the girls he dated, she remembered… everything else. 

Four years ago, their lives had all changed dramatically with the assassination of the king of Faerghus - Dimitri’s father - and the subsequent massacre of most of the knights and nobles attending court that evening. Among those killed… was one of her childhood friends - her fiance, Glenn. They had been betrothed since the day of her birth, but still… she had come to respect and even love him. Having him torn from her… it made the idea of dating anyone, of courting _ anyone _ repulsive. She spent so much of her time that year either angry or crying, and often both.

But when they were together, Sylvain always offered her a sympathetic ear, a shoulder to cry on, or a lance to spar against. While Dimitri and Felix had shut themselves off to their anger and grieved, Sylvain was the only one who stuck by her during that time.  
  
Even now, when he saw she was in a gloomy mood, he’d bring her treats and tell a stupid joke. He made sure she was sleeping all right, and she knew even though he tried to hide it that he’d chased off more than a few ill-intentioned boys who had wanted to court her. She had needed time to heal herself. Still did… she thought. And he respected that, and helped her. Even if he spent literally every other waking moment creating messes for her to clean up.  
  
She shouldn’t _ like _him in any romantic sense of the word. But when she thought of who she wanted to actually spend time with, who didn’t make her feel pressured to marry and begin having children and give up on her grief and her impossible dreams of someday becoming a knight… he was one of the only names that came to mind. She wished she could somehow explain all that to Dorothea and Annette. But she couldn’t. So she didn’t. Mercedes thankfully spoke for her instead.

“Sylvain may seem like a womanizer… and in some ways he is. He acts foolishly and boldly just so people won’t look at him closely. Deep down he’s actually one of the sweetest, most caring, and most observant people I know. He’s funny, and charming. And I think… if it were for someone who actually loved him for him, and not his Crest or status… he would show a lot more of his true self,” she said, “I think for you, Ingrid, he wouldn’t have to hide. I don’t think he’d want to anymore.”

“Wow…” Dorothea mused quietly to herself.

“Yeah… wow,” Annette agreed. 

“But… well, Ingrid. You said you had trouble choosing between Sylvain and someone else. I know you and Sylvain are childhood friends, and that he trusts you more than he trusts anyone else in the world. I imagine this other person must be pretty special if he can compete with that,” Mercedes offered as a way out. 

Ingrid nodded and swallowed. Sylvain… was difficult to explain because he just seemed like he’d be a bad boyfriend for _ anyone _. The other option, though… She sighed. 

“It’s Felix.”

“Why would you have trouble choosing between them? Felix is really sweet,” Annette said immediately.

Dorothea shot her a look.

“Well, he _ can _ be sweet. We’ve actually gotten kind of close, I think. He’s a bit prickly but… he’s very devoted to his ideals. He’s a really hard worker, and he pays attention to the things that upset people and helps them feel better about it. I embarrassed myself with my singing one day. I was mortified that he heard me singing one of my dumb songs, but he didn’t tease me. He actually… well, he’s the reason I actually like going to choir practice now.”

“Sounds like Annie has a crush too,” Dorothea teased lightly. 

“I don’t! I mean, not on him…” 

Her cheeks reddened at that, but she shook her head and spoke up again before anyone could ask.

“He’s just… really nice. I always thought it was sad that he seems so lonely all the time. Why is that anyway?” 

“It’s Glenn,” Ingrid replied quietly.

“Who?” Mercedes.

“I was betrothed to Felix’s older brother before the Tragedy of Duscur. After Glenn died, everyone expected Felix to simply… take Glenn’s place. In everything. Nothing makes him angrier than feeling like someone’s trying to substitute him for his brother. And I don’t think he could ever love me, for that reason,” Ingrid whispered somberly. 

Mercedes and Annette both studied the ground, speechless. Ingrid didn’t want to speak either. It was something she had suspected for a long time now, but it hurt saying it out loud… like it was finally a real truth, instead of something she made up in her head. She felt a bitter shiver run up her spine. Dorothea eventually broke the silence.

“I can’t imagine you would care about that fact all that much if you didn’t love him.” 

Ingrid nodded. 

“Can you tell us why…?” Annette asked softly.

“In some ways, Felix reminds me of Glenn. I know it’s awful to say, and that Felix would hate me for it… but it’s how I feel. He has his own ideals that he will never stray from, and I’ve always admired that about him. About both of them, really. He’s stubborn and prickly, but he also challenges me to be true to myself. To be better than just the future wife of some nobleman.” She inhaled deeply before continuing on.

“He thinks I don’t notice that he puts himself in extra danger to protect us all on the battlefield, or that he takes on extra chores when one of us is sick or hurt. And he's so loyal. He tags along with Sylvain because he knows that the dumb sweet idiot is his own worst enemy, even though he disagrees with just about everything Sylvain ever does. Even though he _ hates _ Dimitri, he’s determined to follow him and help and protect him. And no one notices. No one cares, but I have to. I have to do what I can for him. Even if he won’t let me in. Even if he’ll never return my feelings for him.”

The words came as a cascade of emotion that overwhelmed Ingrid and left her breathing heavily where she stood. Her skin was red, her head hurt, and her eyes stung. Mercedes interrupted the ensuing silence.

“It’s… difficult to tell you who to choose. I’m sorry to say, but it sounds like perhaps you should choose Sylvain after all. It sounds like being together would hurt both Felix and you...” 

“Nu-uh, no way, Mercie. Did you just hear her? It’s obvious she’s completely in love with Felix. She has to choose him. True love will win out in the end, right?” Annette countered, turning to Dorothea for some sort of confirmation. 

Ingrid found herself looking to Dorothea too. True, Mercedes was the oldest, but she was also a little more sheltered. Dorothea had seen the world. No one would be more wise about matters of the heart than her, right? Ingrid didn’t know who to choose. Sylvain made the most sense… IF he could ever get past his womanizing phase. They argued, yeah, but it was like the easy banter of good friends. It was easy to be cheerful around him. Also, he wasn’t a constant living reminder of her dead fiance. And she knew Sylvain would never get upset about her still having feelings for Glenn. Dorothea would surely tell her to stick with Sylvain, and she could do that… couldn’t she?

“Now, forgive me if this seems out of line, but…” Dorothea began after a pause.

Ingrid looked up as Mercedes and Annette looked over to her too.

“Why not both?” she asked simply. 

_ What _? 

“What?” all three of them asked in reply.

“Clearly you love them both. Clearly you have a whole history tied up with them. So why can’t you love both of them?”

“Dorothea I was hoping for a serious reply.”

“There’s no way either of them would go for it.”

“I can’t believe you suggested that.”

Dorothea sighed aloud. “I just wanted to put the idea out there. At the very least you need to talk to them both and figure out their feelings. As for the ball, go ask them both and see which one will take you.”

“What if they both don’t want me?” Ingrid replied glumly. 

Dorothea winked playfully at her.

“Then I’ll be there to help make them and everyone else painfully jealous.” 

The smile she offered helped lift Ingrid’s spirits and she found that the idea of at least asking them if they wanted to go with her didn’t bother her as much as it should have. A loud clap interrupted her thankful internal monologue.

“Well, we still have dresses to try before the big night. So, Mercie, Annie, what do you think about this red one…?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Sylvain**

With a little over a week to go before the big night, Professor Manuela had presumably been pulled aside by Seteth and Rhea and asked to look into information regarding bandits operating strangely close to the monastery. As a routine mission, and with no reports of Tomas - err… Solon - or his ilk anywhere nearby, it was deemed safe enough to send a class out for another live-combat training exercise, and the Blue Lions pulled the short straw. They were given a small number of monastery guards as platoons to lead between them. 

Usually, this would have been fine. Dimitri and Dedue were never in anything less than top form. Ashe was as cautious as ever when scouting. Sylvain found himself enjoying an almost leisurely chat with Mercedes and Annette while Ingrid and Felix hung back to cover their flanks, overzealous and cautious as usual. It seemed they’d actually caught the bandits unaware 

Until extra archers spread from the treetops, loosing volleys down on the unprotected rear. The rear… meaning Felix,who did not wear much in the way of armor, and Ingrid, whose pegasus was a liability if it took flight. Sylvain remembered kicking at his horse's flanks, wheeling around, drawing and unsheathing _ Luin _ \- his house’s Hero’s Relic - which burned with the magic of his Crest without a thought, charging into the flanking enemy lines with confident fury. 

And now he lay on an infirmary bed, his chest and arms sore where magic had stitched up no less than a half-dozen wounds left by arrows that had been feathered into his shoulder and arm, where the joints provided more exposure than the rest of his armor would. 

Manuela glared at him. 

“Sylvain, we can both agree that my bedside manner is typically very kind, patient, and indulgent, correct?” she asked in a sweet tone with a smile that did not match the daggers in her brown eyes. Her winged eyeliner looked sharper and her red eye shadow had taken on a murderous glow. Somehow, she had grown a foot taller in the span of a second. 

He nodded mutely, mostly because he was too weak from blood-loss, energy-loss from healing, and dulled feelings from the medicine for any of his better lines to make it all the way out. 

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING OUT THERE?!” she howled at him. 

He could hear the light shuffling of feet rushing away from the door as students scattered, no longer wanting to be this close to one of Manuela’s patented tirades. They were rare, but well known. Sylvain had tried pretty hard to stay out of that particular line of fire because it simply didn’t do to make someone so beautiful shout so much. 

Well, he’d failed at that today. Like so many things. Now there was nothing for it but to take his lashings. He knew that. 

“We walked into an ambush,” Manuela continued, “That was my mistake, and I will own up to it. I could’ve done a dozen things differently to prevent the ambush, but once it was sprung I did everything that I could to ensure everyone would be protected. But you… you… idiot! What did you think to accomplish, rushing to the back of our lines, leaving gaps and exposing yourself to literally _ every enemy _ we had? Did you want to die? Your tactics certainly looked like it!”

Sylvain sighed and closed his eyes. He’d acted rashly. Impulsively. But…

“Felix… and Ingrid,” he said weakly.

“Are alive and well. They took cover as soon as the volley started, _ as they were trained to do _.” She snapped, punctuating the last words with hard pokes to the only part of his chest that lacked bandages. 

“Your antics drew all the enemy fire, and I’ll have you know that it was a very near thing that you survived. Punctured lung. Sliced arteries. One arrow came within _ centimeters _ of your heart, Sylvain.” She said, and even though her expression hadn’t changed, he could see her eyes getting watery as she continued on. 

“I could not have healed you if that arrow struck you there. You would be _ dead _ and I would have condolence letters to write, and we would all be outside, burying you. Do you even remember what I told you all our first day, before we began taking on any missions outside of the monastery?” 

He knew. He remembered it well. It was more or less the same as a promise he’d made to Dimitri, Ingrid, and Felix nearly four years ago.

“We _ survive _ . Failed missions can be recovered from. Death _ can’t _, Sylvain. You dumb, sweet, idiot boy. I’d rather suffer a lifetime of rejection and hangovers than carry your death on my conscience.”

She placed a hand over his even though her expression didn't exactly _ soften. _ He almost blushed. He remembered trying to comfort Manuela after a particularly bad breakup. It seemed like she was still affected by what had happened months before. _ Can’t have that... _

“Professor Manuela, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have feelings for me,” he joked as confidently as he could. She rolled her eyes, but her grave frown quirked ever so slightly upward. 

“Of course I care. I’m a teacher, I can’t _ not _ care. So the next time you think to do something heroic and suicidal - don’t. Now, I’m going to go and have a stiff drink, because after watching you almost die on my healing table, I need one. And I’ve got two helpers to watch over you and the infirmary until I return.” 

She stood and turned to leave. Sylvain sighed and stared up at the ceiling, wondering which two poor saps got roped into babysitting him for the evening.

“YOU RECKLESS, THOUGHTLESS, INCONSIDERATE-” 

“Moron.”

“Thank you, Felix. MORON!” Ingrid shouted at the top of her lungs. 

Sylvain winced. He wished he had Manuela back to yell at him. 

“What, do you think we’re idiots? That we don’t know how to react to a few dumb archers? Don’t you trust us at all?!”

“Ingrid, I-” 

“I saw you go down and I thought- I thought,” 

She was hyperventilating. Choking on her anxious breath. As Sylvain looked up, in that moment Ingrid looked so young. Younger even than her sixteen years. Suddenly, all he could see was the twelve-year old girl sobbing over the grave of her best friend - her fiance. But this time, he was helpless to reach out and touch her shoulder. Her eyes were filled with angry, bitter tears, and as he opened his mouth to say something, anything, to stop them, she found her voice.

“You know what, I- I can’t even look at you right now.”

A door slam later left Sylvain alone in the room with Felix. He fell back onto the bed heavily and stared up at the ceiling. He had really screwed up, huh. He’d have to do something to cheer her up. Somehow. 

“Goddess, she’s really mad, huh?”

“She is, yeah.”

“Are you mad at me too?” he wondered aloud absently.

“No.”

Sylvain exhaled in relief.

“I’m furious.”

Well… shit. 

“You do this kind of idiotic thing all the time, Sylvain. You don’t take a single thing in life seriously. You goof off every day, chasing skirts and skipping any class that Professor Manuela isn’t teaching. You skimp on your training, and so it’s only natural that when we _ need _ you to be calm and collected, you try to rush off and die instead.” 

“I didn’t-” 

“Shut up and let me finish. Do you know what I thought when I saw you charging at us, utterly heedless to the danger around you? I thought ‘What a noble fool. He’ll die, and he won’t even die like my brother did. At least Glenn died in a situation he couldn’t avoid, but this idiot is going to die for nothing.’”

“I would’ve thought,” Sylvain began as casually as he could manage through the pain, “that I’d be dying for you.” 

“We don’t want you to die for us! We want you to live _ with _ us! Do you know why I train so hard every day? Why Ingrid puts in more class time and training time than both of us combined? When Glenn died, she lost nearly everything. And yesterday, we nearly lost you too. What do you think that would have done to us? Do you think I-either of us would have wanted to go on living with your ghost haunting us too?”

Sylvain heard a tremble in his voice. Sylvain had never heard anything like that before, not from Felix. Felix, who had dived into training as soon as he’d learned what happened to his brother, and had not relented even for a second. He barely smiled, barely laughed. But he had also never cried. Never shown a single ounce of weakness. That tremble shook Sylvain, and the cool heavy pool in his stomach really began to weigh on him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, honestly, “I’m stupid and I wasn’t thinking. When I realized you and Ingrid might be in danger, I completely panicked. I lost it, and I’m sorry for making you worry. I can’t promise I won’t do it again…. But I’ll at least try to be smarter about trying to save you the next time.”

Felix chuckled to himself quietly and said, “Yeah, that’s our Sylvain. Always comes to save us when we need it.” 

Sylvain offered him a grin, and Felix rolled his eyes and turned toward a light knock at the door.

“You’re relieved,” Manuela called through.

“She said you’ll be back up in time for the ball, just don’t do anything stupid again.” 

“No promises,” Sylvain joked, earning another eye roll.

“Yeah, yeah. And Sylvain?” 

Felix paused at the door. Sylvain leaned upright, hissing in quiet pain as his sore muscles and freshly healed wounds protested angrily. 

“Thanks.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Ingrid**

Felix didn’t offer her any advice as he shut the door to the infirmary. He didn’t comment on how puffy and red her eyes were, or how pale she looked. He simply knelt down, pressed his forehead to hers like he used to do when they were kids, pulled her into a light hug… and then he was gone. 

She was  _ so angry _ . At Sylvain. At herself. He was trying to protect her. She knew that rationally, and it was truly the sweetest and most gallant gesture anyone could have done. In her novels, heroes did things like that all the time. But they never passed out in the dirt with arrows sprouting from their chests and blood dripping from their mouths and noses. They didn’t mumble incoherently while their skin burned as you tried to hoist them up onto a pegasus that  _ really _ hated men. They didn’t lie on cots soaked with blood while the most gifted healer  _ and surgeon _ in the Academy gave clipped, panicked orders as the damsel watched helplessly, praying to every saint she knew - begging them not to let him die. 

The hero was supposed to take  _ maybe _ a single arrow, give a brave and witty one-liner before they vanquished the enemy and their lover tended their wounds gently. The heroes never stopped breathing. But...this was real life, he had almost died, and now that she should be thankful that he even survived, she found that she was just  _ angry _ that he’d been so reckless in the first place. He almost died for her. She had a lot of time to analyze all the angles of that thought.

She waited with her thoughts, as nuns and clergy and students passed by. She waited until Manuella slipped back outside her office and saw her sitting beside the door and gave her a sympathetic pat. She waited until the sun began to set, casting the hallways in a light coppery bronze. She pushed her way into the infirmary wordlessly, and found Sylvain was wide awake.

“Ingrid, I’m sorry,” He said immediately. 

“I’m still angry.” She admitted. He nodded. “But I realize that what you did was incredibly sweet.”

“Sweet enough to forgive me?” He asked with a slight smirk. She felt a kind of happy annoyance roll through her, but she didn’t want to give in to easygoing charm. She set her face and tried to glare at him, but wasn’t sure how successful she was.

“No. I’ll forgive you if you promise to never be that reckless ever again.” She said. He nodded. She sighed and tried to muster her courage for what she wanted to say next. She had thought about it  _ a lot _ over the past hour. 

“I have something that I wanted to ask you. But I feel that it’s incredibly stupid right now. Even so, I won’t have much opportunity to ask later, so here it goes.” She was kind of glad that her face was so obviously red from crying that he could not see the way her cheeks and face were warming from impending embarrassment. 

“Will you go to the ball with me?” 

“I really must’ve hit my head. I swear I just heard you ask-,”

“Yes. I asked you to take me to the end-of-the-year ball.”

“I…”

“You’re busy? You already have a date. That would make sense,” she said, realizing logically that it was true. Sylvain was handsome and popular. Even if he was so notorious of a womanizer that none of  _ her friends _ would go with him, he found no shortage of other students and monastery visitors to charm. She felt  _ incredibly _ stupid now.

“I have a few plans, but... will you dance with me, once I get there?” Sylvain asked. He was smiling. Not the practiced smile of a playboy, but the easygoing smile of the dumb kid who always shared his food with her, and mussed her hair and guided her through her first dance at six years old. She felt her stomach fill with butterflies - an expression that she always thought was more fanficul until this moment when her stomach was  _ quite  _ uncomfortable and airy with excitement. Maybe her books got some things right sometimes. She found herself smiling a little herself.

“I’d like that,” She said. She turned to leave, now that the butterflies had migrated north and her cheeks were too hot to simply pretend she was not blushing like an idiot. 

“Goodnight, Ingrid,” Sylvain called out to her. 

“Goodnight.”

It wasn’t until she was lying on her cot that Ingrid really began to recount everything that had happened. 

-=*=-

** _The night before..._ **

Sylvain was in the infirmary. She sat on the spare cot, shivering slightly as she watched the slow rise and fall of his chest as he slept. A bandage was wrapped around his head from the injuries caused by falling from his horse. She was  _ so thankful _ that his mount had managed to avoid trampling him in the chaos. More bandages wrapped around his torso, freshly changed after the initial bandages had been bled through and crusted brown with blood and poultice. He didn’t look pained as he slept. But he looked pale. He looked so pale and so weak and-

A hand squeezed hers, jolting her from her thoughts. She swallowed a gulpful of air, and looked over at the person sitting beside her. Felix… His usual bun of messy black hair now hung in unkempt tangles around his neck. His brow was furrowed with worry and his eyes had a glossed over look about them. His hands were trembling in hers even as he squeezed her lightly. Or were those her hands trembling? It was impossible to tell now.

“That idiot,” Felix muttered to himself. “That colossal moron.” 

Ingrid nodded mutely into his shoulder, her throat still hoarse from shouting commands earlier in the day. Night had fallen outside and Professor Manuela had retired to her room. One of her apprentice healers, a nun, had orders to check in on the patient every hour for the next few, and to come fetch her if anything unusual happened. However, Professor Manuela had reassured them that Sylvain would make a full recovery and what was important was that he rest. She didn’t ask them to leave the room to get some rest. She couldn’t have forced them to if she tried. So they sat in silence, watching him, each in their own world of grief and panic. 

Eventually… the trembling stopped. Sitting shoulder to shoulder, with her head tucked just beneath his, she could feel his every shift, every breath. His warmth. She was reminded… of Glenn. Of how she’d never had a moment like this with him, sitting in his arms just breathing together… at peace in silence. Her fiance and Felix were similar - both rude and combative. But where Felix could be calm and silent - at times - Glenn was always active, always moving. She wondered if she would have felt as comforted if he were here… but she couldn’t really imagine it. She tried to put her thoughts of Glenn aside and instead tried to focus on Felix.

She could feel the anxiousness and tension in his hands… but his grip was still strong. His whole presence felt strong and here and whole. She was so thankful for it. She wanted to shift, to look up into his eyes to see what his expression was… but she also didn’t want to disturb him… or spook him. She and Felix had never  _ really _ been physically intimate like this before. She was afraid that if he noticed, he’d pull away in disgust.

Glenn… Felix had avoided Ingrid subtly ever since Glenn died. They still had the same close-knit circle of friends, and had all been enrolled into the Officers Academy together and assigned the same class, so they couldn’t avoid each other completely. But he never asked her to spar anymore. He never took meals with her - though he never took meals with anyone who wasn’t Sylvain. They argued constantly about his class attendance and scholastic efforts. She wondered if he secretly kind of hated her. Here in his arms, she hoped he didn’t. She hoped he wouldn’t notice and pull away from her. She just wanted to sit here… and breathe with him.

Felix was practicing his meditative breathing, based on the deep slow breaths in, and the cool whispered breaths out. But he never jerked his hand away from hers even when his eyes fell down toward her. That was a good sign, right? A kind of chill rolled over her and she pressed into him automatically. His methodical breathing halted and he let out a quiet cough and started to move to get up.  _ Of course… _

“I’ll be back in a little while. Make sure our dumbass doesn’t wake up and tear out his stitches.” Felix said as he gently pushed her away and got up. She nodded to herself and mentally cursed herself as her cheeks burned. She was supposed to be watching Sylvain,  _ not _ cuddling with Felix. If it could be called cuddling. He’d probably be disgusted if he knew. But yes… tonight was about Sylvain. Her confused and probably doomed feelings for Felix could certainly wait. She let the minutes pass, trying hard not to think about… any of it. 

As Sylvain flinched in his sleep, her head immediately jerked up and she crossed the room in a flash. His forehead had a sheen of sweat which she dabbed away with a cloth draped by the bedside. She tried to check his temperature, but he didn’t feel especially warm. His skin was pale and his lips were turned down in an uncharacteristic frown, but his movement had stopped. She bit her lip anxiously. Maybe it was just a bad dream? They really had no shortage of those, did they? 

Standing over him, she felt her heart break all over again just recalling the injuries that had brought him here. It was reckless and stupid and brave and  _ stupid _ . She wanted to slap him. But the thought of him being gone, of not hearing his dumb jokes or easy laughter made her eyes itch. She leaned down low close to him, hearing his quiet, shallow breathing and just… listened. 

“Don’t you dare die on me,” she whispered, “I can’t take losing you too.” Impulse, more than logic or reason, planted a soft kiss on his forehead. The firelight flickered and a chill washed over her for a moment. Slowly she stood back up, feeling foolish like this. It was… admittedly like a book. But he didn’t wake up and smile at her and tell her that he loved her. And she felt silly for expecting it, so she quickly rushed back over to her seat and sat down. It wasn’t long after that Felix returned with a tray piled with some leftover food from the kitchens. 

Her stomach rumbled loudly with the reminder that she hadn’t eaten since morning. Felix chuckled and broke a piece of bread and handed it to her. She smiled appreciatively and bit into it. To her surprise, it was a sweet bread. He’d brought bread and cheese and fruit. Two cups of wine…  _ real wine _ , which was something his whole family seemed to agree was the solution for frayed nerves after a bad battle. She should have been excited - he’d even brought slices of Noa fruit and apples - her favorites. But, for the first time in her life, food tasted bland and her appetite didn’t compensate for it. 

Still, she ate, slowly, methodically. Felix had gone through all this trouble, for her. Some water and bread would have been enough, but all this…? He didn’t even  _ like  _ sweet things. She felt a little hope take root in her heart. 

“Thanks, Felix.” She murmured once the meal was done and tray set aside. She scooted next to him on the bed and leaned her head against his shoulder. Maybe it was just hope. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe she was just tired, metaphorically and physically. Maybe, she just wanted to test to see if real life could be like novel sometimes. She expected him to move away. But an arm wrapped around her back and stroked her upper arm and shoulder gently. Her flushed cheeks burned hotter… as her eyelids slowly began to droop. 

She awoke with her knees up against her chest and a uniform cloak lain over her for warmth. Her eyes were scratchy and she could feel the salt trails of tears itchy against her skin. She blinked some of the salt away and saw Felix standing beside Sylvain’s bed, his eyes focused with such intensity. 

He’d been saying something, although Ingrid couldn’t really hear him properly. But as she watched, she saw Felix reach down and brush some of the hair out of Sylvain’s face. She could see his expression - filled with a kind of… soft affection that she’d never seen him show before. He reached down and touched Sylvain’s cheeks, and for a long while he stood there, just gazing down, the world forgotten. He sighed and pulled back slowly and turned toward Ingrid, who slammed her eyes shut and steadied her breathing against the sharp beating of her heart. Heat flushed her face, as cool sadness filled her stomach. Felix was in love with Sylvain. 

-=*=-

She tried to bat that memory away, only to be assaulted by others. Manuella fussing over Sylvain’s body, calling for tools and water and cloths by the minute, pouring healing magic into his wounds before repeating the cycle. She remembered how terrified she was. She remembered the hand that she’d clenched so tightly as she stood and watched. 

Back during the battle, Felix had held her back when she tried to run out into the hail of arrows. And once the volley was done, Felix was the first one scrambling to Sylvain’s body, pulling him to cover. Her memories were splotchy of the afternoon and evening of the attack, but she remembered a presence, steadying her when she swayed, stroking her as she trembled, brushing tears away as she cried. 

Her head began to hurt just thinking about it. Sylvain and Felix.  _ Both _ were important to her. And now, after everything that had happened, she felt even more confused.

She always thought it was easier to be around Sylvain. Until Sylvain was hurt and it was just her and Felix. Had he really been that sweet and tender to her when she needed it? Had he really managed to soothe her and make her feel hopeful with just his quiet presence? Did she really miss the feeling of his hand in hers tonight, even though she had only felt it once, and even then… was it physical touch she craved? Or was it him? 

She found herself knocking on a particular door that night, unable to put her thoughts and doubts to rest. Some shuffling came from inside and she waited not caring who saw her outside someone’s bedroom this late in little more than pyjamas. The door slid open quietly and the figure who stood before her didn’t seem all that surprised to see her. 

“Hi, Dorothea,” Ingrid said awkwardly.

“Come inside,” Dorothea said with a smile. 

Ingrid lay with Dorothea at her back, comforted to not be completely alone with her thoughts tonight. Having a neutral person… someone who didn’t spend much class time with Sylvain and Felix, might do her some good. She had explained everything. The mission, the ambush. The night curled up with Felix beside her, watching Sylvain. Yelling at Sylvain when she’d come back from a brief walk with Felix. Crying. Talking. Everything. It spilled out into talking about Glenn and their childhoods together, and how everything felt so muddled and confused. She felt like she talked for hours with Dorothea gently supporting her. She talked until she felt there was no more to explain. And after a long silence, she asked a question.

“Dorothea, have you ever been in love?” Ingrid asked. 

“I don’t think the answer to that is very useful,” she said gently, “I think that the way I feel when I’m in love must be different from the way you might feel when you’re in love. Does that make sense?” 

“I don’t know.”

“You’re asking because you don’t know who to choose.” 

“They feel so different. From each other. From Glenn. When I saw Sylvain hurt, my heart broke. Dorothea, it  _ broke _ . When Glenn died, I was devastated, but I didn’t have to see it. Seeing Sylvain made me realize how important he is to me. I don’t know how I can choose anyone but him. And he almost died for me. I…  _ owe _ it to him to love him… don’t I? But... ” She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t tell Dorothea that Felix loved Sylvain too. That she felt like she owed it to both of them to stay away. The thought alone made her absolutely miserable.

“I don’t think you owe it to anyone to love anyone,” Dorothea said quietly, “We may have obligations to marry or debts to repay, but love isn’t like that. It isn’t a currency. It’s a feeling… and it’s a choice. I think you owe it to  _ yourself _ to pursue love in whatever form it takes, with whomever you choose. And I can’t make the choice for you, Ingrid. I can promise to support you in whatever choice you make, as anyone who truly cares for you would.” She pressed a chaste kiss into the top… or well, back of Ingrid’s head before continuing. 

“I know you’ll make the right decision for yourself. And you shouldn’t feel pressured by this ball to make any final decisions. I feel guilty for putting so much pressure on you regarding it. I just wanted you to have a good time, there’s no need to stake your entire future on one night.” 

“I know. I guess it sounds stupid but… maybe I want to believe in this Goddess Tower business too. Meeting your lover before the end of the night, promising to be together forever, and the Goddess granting your wish? It’s like something out of a romantic novel. Maybe I want my life to be a little more like that, you know?” 

“I understand. Don’t tell anyone, but I feel the same way. I can’t promise it will be easy, but I genuinely believe that you’ll get your happily ever after. Maybe we should approach the question a different way, since you clearly love and care for the both of them.”

“...Okay…?”

“Which one gets you going more?” 

“Which one what…?”

“You know, gets you steamy? Hot and bothered? Who would you rather have throw you on a bed and rip your clothes off?”

As the initial shock of the question wore off, Ingrid sighed. “Dorothea…”

“A healthy love life is the cornerstone of any successful long-lasting relationship.” She said cheerfully.

“Goodnight, Dorothea.” Ingrid said by way of closing the conversation.

“I’d bet good money that Felix is the stronger one…” 

“I said goodnight, Dorothea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of want to apologize for this chapter being so long but also... I don't? I ought to apologize for taking so long to post it. I hope you enjoy it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Life Happened™
> 
> First I want to thank everyone who's stuck with me this long, and I hope you enjoy the rest of what's to come. The next handful of chapters happen almost at the same time, but I'm breaking them up because they're told from different viewpoints. First up, Felix's Repressed Emotions.

**Felix**

_ 25, Ethereal Moon. 8:49 _

It was the night of the ball, and as expected, the monastery was alive with chatter, giggling, and all manner of revelry. Couples strolled the halls, courtyards, and garden arm-in arm, while others who either hadn’t secured dates or had grown bored with them stood in clusters chatting among one another. Sylvain had been allowed out of bed-rest only a few days prior, long enough to make rounds and reassure everyone that he was perfectly unharmed. 

He’d told Felix to meet him in the main hall sometime before 9, but had essentially disappeared. Felix still hadn’t properly met either Isabel or Bethany. And he didn’t particularly look forward to doing so until he was needed, so he remained outside - feeling the cool wintry air against his skin and watching the sun burn a low path beneath the horizon, dragging the brightest colors with it as milky purples and pinks drifted in in its wake. 

He had had  _ a lot _ of time to think about things over the past several days. Things he absolutely refused to speak to anyone about. 

Sylvain was an idiot, but Felix was still thoroughly relieved that he wasn’t dead. But now that he was healthy and moving again, Felix hadn’t felt a strong need to seek him out. Or rather, he had felt a strong aversion to seeing him that he couldn’t place. He might have gone to Ingrid to talk about it, but that was… not going to happen.    
  
Sure, it had felt perfectly natural to shield her in battle, to hold her back when Sylvain fell, and to do his utmost to keep her safe when everything had devolved into a panic. He hadn’t even thought when he gripped her hand as she wept, or watched anxiously as the various mages and medics did what they could to stabilize Sylvain on the field. He’d held her hand the entire ride back to the monastery, and through the bulk of the surgery. He also hadn’t even questioned his own decision to drape her with a cloak when she was cold, or to go find her favorite fruits when he knew she hadn’t eaten that evening. He hadn’t thought about any of it at all until she stormed out of the infirmary, shouting at Sylvain for being so irresponsible. 

But as words tumbled out of him, he’d begun to think about everything. He refused to be used as a replacement for Glenn. He didn’t know how Ingrid felt about him, but it was too easy to slip into believing that she was imagining Glenn as they held hands and he comforted her that night. It was unfair to her, he knew, but the feelings were ones he could not shake. Could she ever appreciate him for just being him? Would the specter of his brother loom over anything they tried to have. Would she ever even want anything? Those were the thoughts he crushed instantly, because there was an obvious truth looming between them. She was in love with Sylvain. 

Felix had suspected it for a long time - there was no reason for  _ any _ woman to stick with Sylvain with the way he carried on, but Ingrid had. He had always attributed it to childhood loyalty. The same reason that Ingrid and Sylvain stuck with the monster in man’s clothing - The Boar Prince, Dimitri. It seemed plausible, and he’d never given it any further thought. Until he heard how she screamed when Sylvain had been shot. Seen the terror and sorrow in her eyes. Sorrow she had only ever held for one person before. And so, she was in love with Sylvain. There was no room for him. It was simple. He was mostly irritated that he felt…  _ sad  _ about it. 

But, since sadness was a worthless emotion, he crushed it too. So with sadness and longing dealt with, Felix simply had to contend with basic emotions like irritation and boredom. Things he knew how to handle. He didn’t know how to be charming, but he suspected that if he danced well enough, whichever girl was his date wouldn’t be too upset with her night. 

As if on cue, the clock struck nine. Time to work. 

The ballroom somehow seemed more cavernous now that it was decorated and thoroughly crammed with students. And food. By the goddess, the snack table ran the full length of the room, and he spotted a few very familiar faces stuffing themselves. He almost expected to see Ingrid there, but for now it seemed she hadn’t arrived. Sylvain waved him over from the opposite end of the hall. 

He circled the room, avoiding the dancefloor and made his way towards where Sylvain was standing with, true to his word, two younger students, both blonde with brown eyes. 

“Felix, meet Isabel and Bethany.” Bethany kept her hair in a semi-curled ponytail. Isabel had ringlets. It was the only detail Felix could commit to memory to tell them apart, and he offered a faint nod by way of greeting. 

“Bethany, Isabel, meet Felix. He’s not grumpy, he’s just quiet. He’s a phenomenal dancer, and expert swordsman. I hear your father collects swords?” Bethany opened her mouth to speak up and Sylvain guided her somewhat surreptitiously until she was standing closer to Felix than him, and gave Felix a wink over the top of her head. Smooth. But at least it was a conversation topic that might not  _ completely _ bore Felix. 

“Oh, yes. He’s a great lover of…” She began, beginning to list weapons from various tribes that dotted Fodland throughout its history. Bethany knew a surprising amount about famous swordsmen, where they learned their techniques and which schools of combat were most popular in different regions during the War of the Eagle and Lion, some three hundred years ago. Felix tried to listen - as he was truly curious - but Sylvain’s idle chatter melted into low conversation and then into conspiratorial whispers that his brain refused to ignore.    
  
Sure, it was a double-date, and sure he was supposed to be here to entertain Bethany, but as Sylvain started drifting idly towards one of the more shadowed recessed corners of the room, he felt incredibly irritated with what he  _ knew _ was coming. Felix was attempting to concentrate on the young girl in front of him, but his eyes kept tracking Sylvain in the periphery. He tried once again to concentrate on the point just between Bethany’s eyes.   
  
Sylvain leaned in to whisper something into Isabel’s ear and elicited a surprised yelp and low moan of pleasure as he nibbled her earlobe instead. Felix felt a flash of anger that passed over his face, and Bethany turned to follow his gaze, and her eyes went wide as Sylvain’s lips dipped lower onto her twin’s neck. Felix was  _ not _ about to sit here and watch this. 

“Do you want to dance?” He demanded. She nodded, half-mesmerized as he took her hand and pulled her to the dance floor. But as he tried to lose himself in the music, to lock his eyes on the girl in front of him, to look at anything that wasn’t the far corner of the room, he found that he couldn’t. And a painful frustrating feeling built in his stomach - one that he hadn’t felt before, and had no idea how to defeat. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Ingrid**

_ 25, Ethereal Moon. 8:31 _

Ingrid had settled on wearing her uniform. The dress felt too showy, and whatever happened tonight, she wanted to feel the most like herself. To her relief, almost everyone else in the Academy had the same idea, so she didn’t feel out of place as she stepped outside and saw various students preparing to head toward the main hall for dancing, feasting, and whatever else people did at these things. 

Still, she felt prettier than normal. Dorothea and Mercedes had stopped by to check on her and helped her with some subtle makeup. Mercedes had even helped braid her hair a little more elaborately, before rushing off to find Annette. Dorothea offered to take Ingrid to the ball, since her own date had never materialized the courage to ask her, but Ingrid felt… okay walking by herself - especially since she knew she was meeting Sylvain. 

Meeting Sylvain. The thought put new butterflies in her stomach. She had never looked forward to _ anything _ like this before, but the idea of him dancing with her - in front of everybody - filled her with a kind of strange pride. He could have any woman at the Academy and _ she _ had asked and he’d chosen her. And everyone would know it. Maybe she didn’t know if he was the one for her, not completely… not yet. But she allowed herself to feel a little giddy over the idea that it might work out. 

She made her way out into the grassy courtyard that ran up to the entrance of the main hall and heard sniffling. Cautiously, she followed it into a kind of impromptu alleyway where two girls were murmuring. One stood, patting the other girl’s shoulders as she sobbed into her arms. Lover’s woes, Ingrid supposed. She sighed. She’d helped comfort _ many _ girls in this position before. 

“Hi… sorry if I’m interrupting, but may I ask what’s the matter? I’d like to help… if I could.”

The girl erupted into another surge of sobs, leaving her friend to offer a wry grimace at Ingrid.

“I told her not to accept. I told her that Anthony, or even that polite gatekeeping guard we see sometimes might be a better pick.”

“He told me he loved me!” the crying girl murmured through sobs.

“There there, Marie. He’s an asshole, and as soon as we get some wine in you we’re gonna go tell him what for, aren’t we honey?” 

She nodded mutely.

“Tell who…?” Ingrid asked, dread creeping into her chest. 

_ 25, Ethereal Moon 9:13 _

It had taken a little over half an hour to get Marie to calm down to tell her the story. And now, with the story out, Marie and her friend - Natasha, were at the refreshment table gulping down glasses of cheap wine while Ingrid surveyed the dance floor. The only redhead on the floor right now was Annette, spinning gracefully in the arms of Mercedes. Good for them, she thought briefly, before turning her focus to the rest of the crowd. She was determined not to be angry. Not yet. Afterall, he had told her that he’d be busy with Felix. This could all be a misunderstanding. She just had to confirm - there. She saw a brief swath of black hair and after a few moments confirmed that it was Felix on the dance floor. He was dancing, swaying really, alongside a young girl that Ingrid hadn’t met before. But Felix wasn’t gazing at her. He was glaring into a crowd of students that she couldn’t clearly see into. She considered calling out to him, but over the din of music and the dull roar of students chattering, she wouldn’t be able to get his attention without yelling. So, she circled the dancefloor as well. 

Just in time to see Sylvain lean in to kiss the girl on his lap.

Of course. This was _ Sylvain _she was dealing with, of course he was here, with a girl. Cold fury filled Ingrid, and all of her usual reactions flew out the window. Normally she might wait until Sylvain was alone to corner and lecture him. But her legs drove her forward of their own volition, sidestepping easily around everyone else in the way, until she was so close she could hear the words he was murmuring into the girl’s ear as he kissed her neck and stroked her thigh.

“Of course you’re the only one for me.” 

“Sylvain Jose Gautier,” she announced. Sylvain gazed up and went shock white. The girl, whatever her name was, looked equally surprised to see Ingrid standing over there, arms folded, anger vibrating through her. 

“You are the most despicable, repugnant, dishonest man I have ever met.”

“Ingrid, wait-”

“I thought that maybe, _ maybe _ you were being honest with me. But everything is just a game to you, isn’t it? I guess I’m just a game to you too. Well, I quit. Have a nice life.”

She turned and strode away, across the dance-floor that slowly ground to a halt around her, past Mercy and Annette who tried to offer sympathy, but were so stunned by her expression that their words died on their lips. She made it through a side door and out into the cold night. And she marched, until the sound of blood pounding in her ears finally dulled enough to hear the quiet whimpers in her throat.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya, sorry for the lapse. As a result, today's update is a two-for-one special. Tune in next Chapter for more awkward teen feelings.

**Felix**

Felix didn’t realize how angry he’d gotten until he saw Ingrid part the crowd around Sylvain and his date, and towered over them. He realized his fists were clenched, his jaw tight as he’d stared and watched Sylvain. The feeling that had overcome him had only steadily increased as the night went on, and once Ingrid had stepped forward, he became aware of how close to bursting he was. And as she stalked away, he almost wished he had.  
  
If he had gone over and smacked Sylvain like he desperately wanted to do, Ingrid wouldn’t have had to see that at least. And now, as she was marching away, he felt equal parts a coward and emboldened. 

Sylvain gave him a helpless, pleading look. Felix turned to follow Ingrid out into the quiet night.

He found her nearly half an hour later sitting mutely beneath some tower near the church. She didn’t look up at him as he approached, but also didn’t make any move to run away or attack him so he supposed she knew who he was by his footsteps. 

“Felix, I swear to the goddess that if you try to apologize for Sylvain right now I will murder you.” Ingrid said without looking up. 

“No argument from me,” Felix replied, before easing down against the wall next to Ingrid. The moon hung high in the sky as wisps of clouds lazily drifted slowly across it. The sounds of the ball - of music and laughter and happiness - felt far away. They were engulfed in near-choking silence. Felix scrambled for something to say. 

“I never did thank you for taking care of me the other night.” Ingrid said quietly, “It was really sweet.”

“That’s what friends do.” Felix concluded simply.

Ingrid let out a low, humorless laugh. “Yeah… friends.” A pregnant pause filled the air for an impossibly long time before Ingrid spoke up again. “Hey Felix… do… do you think we could ever be more than friends?”

_ Hold on. What? _ His thoughts slammed to a halt at the question and he scramble around for some kind of response. Ingrid… and _ him _?! He thought back to the previous days. Ingrid screaming in horror as Sylvain fell, nearly getting herself killed trying to save him, and her determination to carry him home despite the fact that she was exhausted. He thought back to her shaking and crying throughout the surgery. Thought back to the image of her bent over Sylvain as he slept, cheeks red as she leaned down slowly and pressed her lips to him. Ingrid was in love with Sylvain. And Sylvain was in love with her, he was certain. 

“Sylvain…” He began. Ingrid let out an exasperated sigh.

“Everything has been about Sylvain lately… this isn’t about him. This is about you and me, Felix.” She said seriously, turning to face him. 

“You’re in love with him.” Felix said defensively.

“You’re in love with him!” Ingrid countered. 

“What are you-,”

“I saw you that night at the infirmary, while you thought I was sleeping. The way you looked at him, the way you touched him. I _ always _ wondered why you stick around him, even though you argue about everything. And before you tell me it’s something else, remember how jealous you were just now at the ball.” She concluded.

“Jealous? That girl wasn’t even my type-,” Felix replied automatically.

“You were jealous of the _ girl _, Felix. You’re in love with Sylvain and you’re angry because he won’t even look at you that way. I can relate.” She grumbled. 

The whole world seemed like it had been kicked over, and Felix was scrambling to find footing in all the shifting chaos. Him in love with Sylvain? Ingrid, in love with _ him?! _ It was impossible. It was insane. Ingrid couldn’t love him because-

“You’re in love with Glenn.” He said out loud, even though he hadn’t intended to. Ingrid’s eyes turned hard, and as her jaw tensed with anger, Felix regretted even _ thinking _ the thought. Even if he did believe it was true. 

“YES!” She bolted upright and shouted. He rose with her, mostly out of instinct as she continued, “Is that what you want to hear? Yes, I’m still in love with your brother. I always will be, just like I’m in love with Sylvain, just like I’m in love with you!” She snapped. “I know you hate being compared to your brother, and you hate being seen as his substitute. But Felix, I _ never _ saw you as a substitute for Glenn, and it’s insulting that you think I _ could _.” 

He felt like he’d been slapped. But as the words washed through him, he felt like he deserved them. He had been… needlessly cruel to Ingrid on the subject of Glenn. Afterall, if she could see through the dumbass that Sylvain pretended to be and still like him, there was no way she’d be able to pretend that Felix was anything like his brother. He groaned internally.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

“I- wait what?” Ingrid paused, mid reply. 

“I’m sorry. That was… shameful, of me. I know you don’t think of me as Glenn. But really? Me? And _ Sylvain _?”

“You can’t tease me about him, you love him too.” 

“I don’t-,” but the phrase died on his lips. It sounded ridiculous and insane. Men didn’t court men. But then… he’d seen Annette and Mercedes at the ball. He knew that Dedue and Dimitri were utterly devoted to each other, so much so that they had pushed away Sylvain, Ingrid, and himself. Dorothea made no attempts at hiding her flirtations with other women, even if he _ had _ always thought she was simply joking. He hadn’t really… thought about it until this moment. But now so many memories and hints were racing through his mind. And another awkward question arose within him.

Had he ever been in love? He never paid it any attention. Love got in the way of training. It got in the way of the goal of self-perfection, or so he thought. But if he had to ask if there were anyone in the world he would die without, it was Ingrid… and Sylvain. And if he had to name the people who made him strive to be better than he thought he could be… that answer was the same. 

He had always… ignored the physical reactions he’d gotten to people. But he recalled needing to shift with Ingrid pressed into him. He remembered the warm tingling in his hands and body whenever he touched her… and the warmth that had flooded through him that night in the infirmary when he’d touched Sylvain and lost himself in the cloud of confusing feelings that he’d had no name for. 

Love? 

Fuck. 

“I’m… in love?” He wondered aloud. 

Ingrid pressed her palm to her face. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

“With Sylvain…” He murmured, more to himself for some sort of real-world confirmation.

“Yes.”

“And… you.” He said, still bewildered, still puzzled by the realization, and awed by the strange feelings that were forming in his chest as he said the words aloud. Ingrid blanched.

“What?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but we're closing in on the end here. I hope you've all enjoyed it so far.

**Ingrid**

Felix said he loved her. Felix admitted that he loved Sylvain, and then told her that he loved her. The butterflies in her stomach had grown into pegasi. Her complexion could probably be described as ghastly. 

“Look, I’m not great at this. I don’t think about love and romance. But seeing you cry hurt as much as seeing Sylvain hurt. Seeing you kiss him made me feel the same way as seeing him kiss Isabel.”

“How do you know her name?” Ingrid wondered aloud.

“Not important. If I… love you,” He seemed to still be testing the words out, as if they didn’t fit his mouth, as if he couldn’t believe they were words he’d ever say. “If I love you… and you love me… what happens next?” 

He seemed lost. Baffled, even, by his new circumstances. Ingrid had to admit, she didn’t expect this either. She had expected to cry a little out in the dark, compose herself, and march back to the ball to stuff her face. She expected to be furious with Sylvain for the night until he did something to make her forgive him in a few days, for Felix to go on being Felix, and for everything to stay the way it was. She never expected to have this conversation with Felix. Not like this. Not with as much shouting and crying. She didn’t expect to be the one being looked to for instruction… or support. 

The pegasi in her stomach had settled down. The shock had worn off, and she realized that she was… in control. She wasn’t the victim of tragic unrequited love. This boy… was here, with her. In love with her, and… wanted  _ her _ to decide what came next. This was nothing like any book she’d ever read. It was so funny that she almost burst into a fit of laughter. She contained herself into a tight smile, inhaled slowly to keep herself together. What’s something a gallant heroic figure would say in a moment like this? 

“I believe the next thing for us to do is for me to kiss you.” 

As confidently as she said it, she suddenly was hyper-aware of everything. The space in between them… the dim moonlight above. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she took her first step forward, and then a second, planting her firmly in front of him. Felix was taller by a few centimeters, so she had to tilt her chin up to reach him.

She placed her hands gingerly on the front of his uniform, feeling the threads and embroidery as she slowly traced her hands upward, past his collarbones, over his shoulder until her hands touched just behind his neck. She pressed into him, savoring the feeling of his body pressed against hers. His scent… the scent of maintenance oil and polish and iron filled her as she inhaled, and she breathed out against him, eliciting a low sighing moan. In the corner of her eye she could see the moon peek out from the clouds again. Like the Goddess wiping away her own doubts and confusions about everything that had happened this night. She was here, and as he wrapped arms around her waist,  _ he _ was here with her. She pressed her soft lips against his, and felt him melt into her body. 

Felix was… a bit of a clumsy kisser. He didn’t read much romance or spend time dating or talking with anyone who did date, so for a moment he was simply rigid, lips pressed against hers, unmoving. She giggled against his lips - this was so like him. She brushed her lips against his and felt him relax, and then kissed him again, teasing his lips with her tongue. He relaxed at that, and pulled her tighter against him, and kissed her back hungrily,  _ desperately.  _ She closed her eyes and let herself kiss and be kissed. Hold and be held. When he finally pulled away to gaze down into her eyes, the hardness had finally melted away, revealing something gentle and warm in his expression. The intensity and fire behind his gaze never left… but the purpose of that intensity had changed. For her part, all she could do was gaze back, awed by the transformation that had overcome him. Overcome  _ them _ . She kissed him again and gazed up at the moon. 

They were beneath the Goddess Tower. Together.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter
> 
> Thanks to everyone who deigned to stick with me so far, I hope you guys enjoy the ending.

**Sylvain**

Sylvain watched the pair rather uncomfortably as Ingrid stepped in close, reached up, and leaned in to press her lips to Felix’s. He’d run, searching everywhere to find them, and only got here to find them talking together. Arguing, and now… kissing. Sylvain had never really thought too much about Ingrid’s love-life in the eventual sense. He had known she was still grieving Glenn, and had warded off guys to give her the space she needed. He never really thought about what it would look like when she was finally ready to love again. But here she was. And Felix… Felix saw the worth of a woman in her sword arm and nothing else. He’d  _ known _ that Felix harbored feelings for Ingrid even before Glenn had died, but with all the trauma, Sylviain had assumed that it was over forever. What an idiot he was. He should’ve seen it coming. And as surprising as it was, what surprised him even more was how low he felt. 

Something cold and frustrating had balled up in the middle of his throat and was dragging its way slowly down into the pit of his stomach. It was a steep and unsettling sadness that he’d never felt before. Was this… jealousy? Rejection? It certainly sounded like the feelings Manuella described during her breakups. The feelings he’d heard Ingrid describe when talking about the girl’s he’d led on and moved on from. It hurt in a way that he couldn't explain and describe, and a shallow sense of horror slowly rolled over him as he realized that he'd inflicted this on others. _I'm... the worst. _ If the ground swallowed him up, he felt like it’d only be fitting to be buried with the guilt he now felt.    
  
Everything felt heavy, and grim. His chest hurt in a way that had nothing to do with his healing wounds, and it was an awful realization that:  _ I deserve this.  _   
  
Huh… well. He glanced back up at Ingrid and Felix and tried to force a smile. Good on them, he guessed. He should be glad that they found each other. And he was… He was! Right? He sighed. Of course he was happy for them. And of course he was miserable about it. He was the dumbass who had flirted with everyone in the world, except for the people who mattered the most to him. It was his own fault they couldn’t see how he felt. Well, no need to ruin their happiness with his brooding. He turned away from the Goddess Tower to shuffle away into the night.

“Come here you jackass.” Felix called through the dark. Sylvain froze. 

Ingrid and Felix stood, fingers interlocked, beneath the silver glow of the moon beneath the Goddess Tower. There was a long-suffering expression of exasperation on their faces, but they weren’t scowling at him. Given what he’d put them through tonight… he deserved whatever verbal lashings they were going to give him. He had come to apologize after all. He shuffled out into the light. He couldn’t even fake cheeriness properly now.

“Hey…” he said.   


“So you heard the whole thing?” Ingrid asked, arms folded beneath her breasts. Sylvain shook his head automatically. He’d seen a lot, but heard very little. Ingrid seemed satisfied with his response and continued. “Felix has something to say to you.”    
  
“Yeah… what’s up?” Sylvain asked, folding his arms. Nonchalant as he tried to seem, he was mentally bracing himself. Felix, somehow, seemed even madder than Ingrid did earlier that night. And unlike Ingrid, Felix  _ did _ believe in punching his way through some problems. 

“You’re an idiot.” Felix began.

“Yeah…”

“And, for some strange reason, I’m still here with you.” 

Sylvain nodded, uncertain of where this was going. 

“Do you know why?” Felix asked as he marched within punching distance of Sylvain. Sylvain shook his head tightly. 

“Apparently, I’m in love with you.” Felix said simply. Sylvain felt the whole world shake. He tried to say something, to speak up, but suddenly Ingrid was in front of him, her eyes sharp. She raised a hand to stop him from speaking as she began. 

“Sylvain, I love you. I love you so much that it hurts. But that-,” She gestured towards the main hall, where the festivities were still going, “The skirt-chasing, the two-timing, it has to stop. Felix tells me you love me. Do you?”

Sylvain swallowed and nodded nervously. He did. He  _ knew _ he did. 

“Then promise me. Don’t string along people when you don’t mean it. If you truly love someone, commit to them. Tell them. Tell  _ him _ .” She commanded. She pointed at Felix, who had returned to a sort of easygoing aloofness that made him impossible to approach. Ingrid’s hand didn’t waver, and Sylvain felt himself tensing.    
  
He’d never admitted this to anyone, least of all to himself. The pressure to marry for the sake of his house, to father children who bore his family’s Crest, all of it meant that any feelings he had for anyone amounted to nothing. If he’d had feelings for Felix, they amounted to even less than nothing because his family would never  _ ever _ allow him to act on them. Noble men had  _ obligations _ . He and Felix had  _ obligations _ . But… 

“Are you really okay with somebody like me?” Sylvain asked. It was easy to be confident when you knew that the person you were talking to… didn’t matter. But suddenly, this was the most important conversation of his life, and he was pretty sure he’d screwed it up an hour ago… if not earlier. 

“Shut up and kiss me you moron.” 

To describe their kiss as passionate and loving would, unfortunately, be an exaggeration. It was new and awkward and clumsy, on both ends. Sylvain fancied himself a good kisser, but in the face of someone who rarely kissed, and always seemed so menacing, finding the right balance of assertive and forward was impossible. They fought, to tease each other with tongues, to nibble lips, to taste one another. He didn’t know where to put his hands, and Felix seemed no wiser, and so they pawed at each other’s chests, or reached for each other’s waists. In the end they were left breathless and sloppy, and Sylvain couldn’t suppress a laugh and soon Felix was chuckling too.

“That was positively awful.” Sylvain admitted.

“That’s what training is for.” Felix said with a glint in his eyes. Sylvain became aware of the fact that a small, intense blond had watched their entire exchange with amusement plain on her face. He felt a little awkward now. How long had she been standing there...? Suddenly his cheeks were burning. Goddess help him...

“Umm… Ingrid. I’m confused.” He admitted aloud, “What does this mean for you… for us?” 

She stepped forward and leaned up on the tips of her toes and placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips before landing lightly on her heels and offering him a soft smile. 

“We’ll find out.” She said. She smiled and turned and gazed up at the Goddess Tower. “I can’t believe Dorothea was right…” 

“Huh?” Sylvain asked.

“Nevermind.” Ingrid turned and locked arms with Felix. Her face burned bright red as a sly smile crept across her lips. “So, Shall we?” She started away from the tower with a confused but compliant Felix in tow.

“Where are you going?” Sylvain asked. Felix looked similarly confused. 

“ _ Training _ .” Ingrid said to Felix, seeming to surprise herself. As the implications clicked in Felix’s mind, he seemed to choke on air before coughing out a quiet chuckle. 

“You’re on.”

“Oh…” Sylvain said, stopping where he stood as he watched. 

“Are you coming?” Ingrid called after a few steps. 

Sylvain couldn’t believe his ears. 


End file.
